The other Hawke girl
by Flaminea
Summary: We all know the story of the Champion: Jade Hawke, the elder Hawke, the one who defied Kirkwall Templars and incited the Mages-Templar war. But we never heard Bethany Hawke's story. Imprisoned in the Gallows, she saw the world, and her sister, through a whole different angle.


_**A/N**_

 _ **The other Hawke girl**_ has been written as part of "Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers" December's challenge.

In this story I will mention the months in which a Thedosian year is divided and a couple of festivities. For the sake of offering a flowing reading to those who happen to not be aware of those months and those festivities, I list them here as I've found them on the DA Wiki.

The five holidays, or _annums,_ take place at the beginning of the month within which they fall.

1st month: _Verimensis / Wintermarch_ ( _Annum_ : First Day)

2nd month: _Pluitanis / Guardian_ ( _Annum_ : Wintersend)

3rd month: _Nubulis_ / Drakonis

4th month: Molioris / Bloomingtide ( _Annum_ : Summerday)

5th month: _Eluviesta / Cloudreach_

6th month: _Ferventis / Justinian_

7th month: _Solis / Solace_

8th month: _Matrinalis / August_ ( _Annum_ : All Soul's Day)

9th month: _Parvulis / Kingsway_

10th month: _Frumentum / Harvestmere_

11th month: _Umbralis / Firstfall_ ( _Annum_ : Satinalia)

12th month: _Cassus / Haring_

* * *

 _ **THE OTHER HAWKE GIRL**_

 **9:30 Dragon, Firstfall, Satinalia**

 **Kirkwall, Uncle Gamlen's house**

For the first time since Father's death, I don't feel guilty.

It has taken 19 years, a Blight and being employed by Athenril for the length of a whole year, but now our family is safe and free to put down its roots. As far as I remember we've always been on the run, unable to enjoy a nice neighborhood, a long-time friendship or a lasting employment. All for mine and my father's sake, all because we're both born with magic.

From time to time, an acquaintance has grown suspicious of my father's extraordinary ability in the matter of healing and has found out more than he, or, she, should have; occasionally, another healer has denounced him as a mage without even knowing if that was true or not, merely using a suspicion as a way to get rid of a professional rival. But to be honest, most of the times it had been my fault, since as a child I was unaware of how a mere gesture could unleash my magic and, therefore, expose me as a mage. Should I advocate for myself, I could say that my childhood has not been a joyous one. I was in need of friends and playmates just like any child, but I wasn't allowed to experience any of that. To make matters worse, my nature is a shy one and a constant fear of using my powers before being able to stop myself hasn't helped at all. For the first ten years of my life, I was forced to remain on the fringes, and be content to watch my sister Jade get all the attention and make one friend after another. As a child, Jade was the tomboy one: I've never met someone more capable than her to climb trees, wrestle with the boys and play hide-and-seek. To be fair, Jade has always tried to drag me into those games: but every time I wounded up being the hushed, surly girl who got tired after the first hide-and-seek round, while Jade charmed everyone with her blithe smile and her enthralling humor, ended up captaining every girl and guy. As for the girly girls, they interpreted my reluctance in indulging in social life as arrogance, thus avoiding me and calling me "the uptight ice princess". It had grown so frustrating that one time, when we were living near Amaranthine, I foolishly used my power to make a sprout blossom into a full-grown flower in an attempt to show the world I existed too and could be as fabulous as my popular sister. Obviously, we have been forced to flee and start over somewhere else.

In a sense, now things are not that different. I'm still a reserved person, not particularly able in making friends, even though now I don't have to fear a sudden, uncontrolled unleash of my power anymore. Jade is still the star pupil, now grown into a beautiful woman quick both with her daggers and her tongue. Look at her, throwing walnuts to Uncle Gamlen: if she really wanted to, she'd be able to hit him right on the forehead. She's just having fun.

Having fun, that's right. It's Satinalia and, me, my sister, Mother and Uncle Gamlen are celebrating like any normal family would do. Seeing Mother smile, watching my sister and my Uncle getting along despite him being the reason why we don't own our family estate anymore is... warming. Priceless. After all, Gamlen is also the one who has orchestrated Mother and Father's first, fateful encounter and has helped him getting to safety when our grandfather has denounced him to the Templars.

And for today, as I caress the soft, silk hair ribbons my sister has given me as a gift, I don't feel on the fringes. I don't feel guilty for the magic running in my blood.

 _ **§ Hearts leap in a giddy whirl §**_

 **9:31 Dragon, Cloudreach**

 **Kirkwall, Hanged Man**

Father always said that a loner mage is almost certainly a ticking bomb, the easiest prey for a demon. Social relationships lead to feelings, and warm feelings give us motivation in keeping ourselves in check. If we grow fond of someone we're encouraged in taming our power, because it's the only way to avoid harming those we love. And finally, I'm not alone anymore. Finally, my sister's friends are also my friends: people whose side I fight, for whose defense I use my elemental spells. I adore Varric above them all. I've never come to know a dwarf before, and I would never have suspected that anyone apart my parents could call me something like Sunshine. Not to mention that I would never have expected to run into not one, but two apostate mages. Merrill is a sweet girl, even though I'm worried about her like a big sister would: meddling with blood mage is never wise. Anders reminds me of my father. He's a healer like he was, and he has the same caring, gentle, sometimes humorous attitude, even though I can tell his humor is mainly a mask: being shunned from other children and teenagers' company made me pretty capable in observing and listening to people. I can sense a hidden sadness inside him, something that constantly bothers him. Also, I can see he's infatuated with Jade. She shouldn't tease him with her jokes, even though I know she doesn't mean to hurt or mislead him. But my sister is a merry, carefree woman and probably doesn't even realize how much Anders is complex. Aveline and Isabela, the city guard and the pirate, are always busy bickering, even though I suspect that while our dear guard is serious in bickering, that carefree pirate is just having a lot of fun. Aveline is someone I can always count on in case I need a frank, direct advice about moral matters. On the other hand, Isabela always makes me laugh, and occasionally blush when she starts telling me about dirty novels.

And then there's Fenris. Or Broody, as Varric calls him.

While everyone is having fun, laughing and playing Wicked Grace he sits silent, his mug in his hands, his eyes lost somewhere. I know that look. It's melancholia. I'm well aware of what it means being confined to the fringes and how that affects one's ability to accept a friendly hand: after having been isolated for a while, it seems impossible that someone could care. Jade doesn't understand that. She keeps making jokes, but she doesn't see how he's buried into his own past, how a more delicate approach could help him much more in getting out of his shell. And he certainly doesn't need to bicker with her every time someone mentions mages or magic. Somehow, for some reason, the more I look at him the more I wish to wipe that sadness away, to see his face light up, to make him smile. I want to show him that I care, even if I'm a mage.

He must have perceived my gaze upon him because he gives me a surly look. And the first thing he does is hiding his hands, as well as his lyrium tattoos, under the table.

"You look thoughtful. Are you thinking about your country, by chance?" I ask him, as gently as I can manage to. "I remember you said you've come to Kirkwall not much time ago."

At first, all I get is another surly look. His voice is not any gentler, and he looks at me like I was some sort of idiot. "It's never been my country, mage. I was a slave. Would you call the Gallows your home?"

Shaking my head, I realize he's right. Still, it is the only excuse I could think of to talk to him. "True. I wouldn't. Even though... I suppose that if I hadn't lived anywhere else for my whole life it would still be the only comparison to a new reality." I pause to take a look at him. He doesn't look as defensive as he was, but he's still wary. As if he was expecting a trap, or a backbiting. "Does it feel strange to be here?" I kindly ask, encouraged by that slight change of mood.

Fenris looks around, and all of a sudden he looks vulnerable. He checks the surrounding as if he was making sure that no one is paying him any attention, just like how a trapped wolf would. When he looks at me again, there's a veil of sincerity in his eyes. "Sometimes" he admits. "That does not mean that I would go back."

I simply nod, avoiding both inquiring looks and other questions. For a start, I can't ask for more.

 **9:31 Dragon, Solace**

 **Tal-Vashoth cavern, Wounded coast**

The last lightning quick movement inside the cavern is Fenris'. His broadsword clashes upon the Sareebas's head, putting and end both to his life and the battle. While my sister searches the leader's body, my eyes fall upon the wounds visible on the corpse. The skin is broken in many spots, both by quick backstabs and heavy, powerful broadsword's hits. It's as if Jade and Fenris have danced around him in perfect synchrony, performing a lethal dance whose step only they are familiar with.

When I raise my gaze, Jade is smiling victoriously, showing as all the piece of paper containing the explosive's formula. Passing beside me, she pats me on the arm thanking me for having kept at bay the Tal-Vashoth creeping up behind her. I smile back at her, but with the corner of my eye, it's Fenris I'm watching. He's cleaning his sword, not a word coming out from his mouth. Apparently, to him there's nothing to be merry for. In fact, he grimaces from time to time as if he was being hit by a sharp twinge of pain.

As I near him, for a moment he eyes me suspiciously, as if waiting for trouble. Then, his shoulders relax, as well as his features.

"Are you alright?" I inquire, taking a seat beside him.

At first, there's no answer and Fenris keeps polishing the blade. Finally, he nods reluctantly, without looking at me. "It's just the lyrium, Bethany. It's the most valuable weapon I possess, but sometimes its power turns against me after I've used it." He pauses for a second, and when he talks again his voice is full of bitterness. "After all, I wasn't born with magic. My body must feel its presence... menacing. Perhaps, it's because it rejects that kind of power. It's like being a freak."

My hands on my knees, lost deep in thoughts, I shake my head. "I don't know. I never thought something... like that was possible. Sure enough, I would never perform anything of the sort on anyone. Let alone force it." Hesitating, I pause. I can't tell him what I'm thinking: that we are extraordinary alike, that we both feel like freaks because of magic. I couldn't stand to anger or sadden him. However, I can still try to reassure him. "But Fenris, you're not a freak. Don't ever think you are. There's a place for you in this world." The lyrium warrior turns towards me. There's something in his eyes, something close to trust: quietness. In my world, time stops. And before I even realize what I'm doing, my fingers touch his lightly. Such a simple touch is enough to make him flinch and abruptly stand, his back quickly turning on me. When I hear Jade's voice calling us, I barely have the time to bite my lip and curse my stupidity.

 **9:31 Dragon, Kingsway**

 **The Gallows, Kirkwall**

Those high, white walls. Those creepy statues depicting suffering slaves. The steps of the Templars, the blank look of the Tranquils. I despise everything of this place, and most of it I hate how it prompts me to burn it to the ground for good. Even now, as one of the Templars walks towards us and we let him pass, something roars inside me. A wish to see the Gallows turn into burning ashes.

"Don't" a voice whispers.

That familiar voice is enough to bring me back to my senses, to remind me who I am and where I am right now: I turn to meet Fenris' serious gaze. In a glimpse, I remember our last real conversation and the way he has fled from me.

"If you keep staring at that Templar, he will eventually wonder what's the issue and we'll attract unwanted attention."

Lowering my eyes, I notice how I'm clenching my fists. Very slowly, I start breathing at a normal rate once again.

"No matter how much you stare at them, or at those walls, they won't vanish. Even worse, you risk getting yourself arrested and ending up inside the very same building you hate" he continues.

Once again, I can only nod in agreement. Of course, he's right. I draw a trembling breath. "It's that that... I keep thinking how my father would have been held prisoner in there if the circumstances had been different. My mother would have had to raise us all by herself and I would have grown up without him, never knowing what a wonderful, gentle, good-natured man he was. He... taught me to be the mage I am."

"And yet you looked ready to annihilate this place, Bethany" Fenris murmured. I perceive a hint of worry in his voice. "What if one day you gave in to one of those impulses? Even you, the kindest, controlled mage I've ever met, are susceptible to them. Even you would be kept safe from yourself should you enter the Gallows."

My reply is harsh, curt."I didn't ask for the magic running in my veins, you know?" Even harsher than I thought, I realize after a moment. "I'm sorry, Fenris."

There's no blame in his eyes, his gaze is oddly understanding. "Nobody asks for their fate."

Before I can offer any kind of reply, he turns and addresses to Jade. "Are you sure it's safe coming here?"

I don't quite catch their whole conversation. I hear they're talking about Tevinter and magisters, but their words are filtered by the rumbling thought running through my head. To have to endure all this without having done nothing but being born is not right. To force entire families escaping for their whole life is not right. I might never be able to tell him, but I know we're similar: we were both forced into being something we didn't wish for. Maybe one day he'll understand. Maybe that understanding look is just the start. Then, his words pierce right through my hope and shatter it. I hear him stating how mages are beings susceptible to corruption and weakness, that if the mages were permitted to be their own watches it could end up like it did in Tevinter, that any mage's desire can lead to blood magic. I can take it, perhaps. Perhaps I can convince him he's wrong. But then he says it: he sees no oppression here at the Gallows. He hopes that's more effective than other Circles.

My sister steps up and defends me, as fierce as ever. He accuses him of forgetting that mages are human beings, of tarring every mage with the same brush. Every single word of her hits hard. I hate myself for not being able to stand by myself, I hate her for being the kind of person I've always wanted to be, outspoken and without magic. Most of all, I hate myself for this tangle of negative feelings towards my flesh and blood. But I can't bear always ending up being the other Hawke.

 _ **§**_ _ **I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl §**_

 **9:33 Dragon, Verimensis, First Day**

 **The Gallows, Kirkwall**

At least, I can see the sea. The Wakings Sea's crashing waves are too far to be heard, but I have no trouble imagining it. Their soft walk on the sand, the growing foam on their crest and finally the joyous impact on the foreshore. The sunset light is painting the water in gold. My eyes have always been sensible to the light, but that's not the reason why they are becoming teary. Seeing the sea and not being able to touch it, to feel it, breaks my heart. Every extra day I pass here at the Gallows my heart breaks a little more. Some days I wish the whole world disappeared and turned into an unfertile desert like my prison, others I'd rather not even have the chance to look at the outside world, at freedom. Freedom is where I can be what I am. Here, I breathe just because my lungs force me to.

It will get better. I know. All of this has happened last year's First Day too. Just like last year, the Knight-Commander has allowed us to receive visits from our relatives. Just like last year, my sister and I have spent the afternoon together. We've basked in the sun and with her by my side the light has looked brighter. I almost managed to ignore the weight of those robes, those blasted robes that are nothing but a way to make us feel ever more powerless and motionless. We giggled like young girls, forgetting what we have become during those years. But Jade has just left, taking away with her that strain of freedom she is able to instill me with. And for a moment, I have hated her for that, even though I'm perfectly aware she can't free me or stay by my side.

With the corner of my eye, I see those hideous statues. I've never understood before, but now I do. I live in shackles, just like those statues out there are forced to do for eternity. That's why they're here: to remind us that there's no salvation. I used to be a dimwit who dreamt too far, but now I'm wiser.

But if that's so, why can't I just throw the rosed-pearl bracelet Jade has given me as a gift? Why can't I renounce the only thing coming from the outside world, the only tie between me and it?

 **9:35 Dragon, Molioris, Summer Day**

 **The Gallows, Kirkwall**

I had almost done it.

After four years of imprisonment, I had almost come to accept the unavoidability of my fate. I had begun taking training seriously, studying every day. I had almost been successful in ignoring the world outside my windows, I had almost learned to thank the Knight-Commander for having decided to put bars at our windows and to taint our only view on the outside world. I had come to the conclusion that the Gallows would never even have gifted me a friend, let alone a lover or a husband. Finally, I had decided to surrender: to become the obedient, reasonable, low profile mage she expects us to be. Father said a loner mage is a dangerous one, true, but here I can't hurt anyone.

Then Chateau Heine happened.

My sister, the Champion of Kirkwall, demanded that I was allowed to leave the Gallows for the time necessary for a short trip; the Knight-Commander, not wanting to risk jeopardizing the already fragile balance that is holding Kirkwall together, accepted. I thought I was ready. I thought that I had trained enough to not feel nostalgic upon my return to the Gallows.

I was disastrously wrong.

I hadn't anticipated the lightness under my feet as I was distancing from Kirkwall. I had no idea how much my eyes hungered for a new scenery, or how much my forgotten desire to travel and see the world would have blossomed. Chateau Heine is everything our family would have enjoyed, had the Amells maintained their social status. But that melancholia for something that never happened in the first place has not even been the worst part.

The worst has been seeing Fenris, talking to him and notice how he's not that uptight and uncommunicative anymore. On one hand, joking with him, being called pretty and exhorted to wear one those flowing Orlesian dresses, claiming how I would have looked good in one and how the Circle is outdated in terms of fashion has made my heart sung. Witnessing to the first laugh of him I had ever heard, after I cursed that bloody runaround twisted shite of a maze that Chateau Heine is, has made me hope. On the other, all of it has broken that same heart of mine once again. I'm not blind. I haven't missed the way he looks at Jade, the increasing worry on his face at the thought her imprisoned somewhere by the Duke, the relief in his voice when we found her unharmed, his jealousy at her playful banter with Tallis.

Why does Jade always have to get the better part of the bargain? She's the one who's free, she's the Champion of Kirkwall, she's fabulously rich and now she's also the one who got a hold on the heart of the only man I ever looked at and the only man I thought could have reciprocated. With that act, she has stained that memory forever. How did she do that too? How did she manage to get to him without damaging him through her careless mindset? Once I thought I was the best Hawke in understanding people. Apparently I was wrong. So, now she snatched that out of me too.

Jade is my sister, the only playing companion I've ever known, the only one who cared enough to guide me to the core of life. My lifelong friend. But she's also the only reason I am allowed occasional special privileges at the Gallows. She's the Champion, the role model everyone in the Gallows expects me to keep pace with. She's the reason why I am confined in here: in choosing to listen to Mother and not allow me to travel with her in the Deep Roads, she unwittingly surrendered me to the Templars and to this miserable life.

Today is Summer Day. A cheerful sound of bells is filling the air, the odious sound I have to endure every single year. Somewhere, a girl is getting married, claiming her life and her right to live it, to raise children and to get old side by the side with someone who loves her.

I wish I never traveled to Chateau Heine.

And once again, I never learn: wishing only wounds the heart.

 **9:36 Dragon, Matrinals, All Soul's Day**

 **Kirkwall Chantry** _  
_

One time, our primal spells teacher has told us how the Dalish Keepers possess a kind of magic founded on a form of communication with the earth. Dalish Keepers, I was told, are able to manipulate roots and earth to their willing and to use them as weapons.

I'd never looked at Merrill, or any Dalish mage, the way I used to. Touching roots, any kind of root, is wrong because our mother and our father are our main roots. And now they have both been sheared through. It's as if a chunk of flesh has been torn out from me. Is that how it feels being an orphan?

I open my wardrobe to get the black cloak that the elf assigned to the room next to mine has given me, once he had come to know about my loss and how I had been permitted to attend Mother's funeral. It had been an unexpected gesture, but a kind one. If I cover my robes, I'll be just Bethany, the daughter of Leandra Hawke. No one will look at me and see a mage. As I shut the wardrobe door again, it catches my eye: that's the slight crevice Jade's punch has left on the wood. The last time she has been there she has told me how and why Mother had died. Closing my eyes, I still remember her words, my silence, my tears, the hug I have refused. Then, my words.

 _You're the invincible one, you're the mighty Champion._

 _Why didn't you save her?_

 _Why didn't you protect me from this pain, sister?_

And then her angry punch on the wardrobe.

This time, as I leave the Gallows, freedom feels unbearably nauseous.

I can't stand all this talk about the Maker and how my mother has returned to Him. All it is good for is offering a consolation to the ones willing to listen. I'm not amongst them. I yielded to the Chantry's law, I forced myself to accept my captivity, I even came to consider it a shelter against the evil of the outside world. I shut the world outside, but it has found and hurt me nonetheless.

If consolation doesn't work, all I have left is blaming someone. I couldn't blame that mindless darkspawn for Carver's death, but I can curse Mother's killer one, two, a thousand time, even if he's dead already. He knew what he was doing, how wicked his acts were. I can't blame an ogre, but I will blame a man. A man, and a mage. A mage, like me.

Now I see why I can't afford the luxury of a family, an embrace or a hand holding mine. I am a ticking bomb. Fenris was right. He's been right all along.

I look at my sister. Jade is softly crying on Uncle Gamlen's shoulder while Fenris is holding her hand. The Maker has inflicted this unbearable pain upon me, too, but I'm the one who ends up facing it alone.

I wish there was some place for me amongst my family.

 _ **§ I am not that girl §**_

 **9:37, Umbralis**

The moment the explosion roars and blooms in blood red flashes of magical energy, leaving only ruins where the Chantry of Kirkwall was, I know the time has come. The outside world is about to intrude into my own, little world once again.

All that follows is chaos, first whispers then panicking cries of a forthcoming Annulment. While everyone runs, I don't move: I learned long ago that fighting against destiny is useless. And all of us have been condemned the moment we were born.

And then, First Enchanter Orsino's voice stands above the commotion. The First Enchanter is announcing us that the Champion of Kirkwall has chosen to defend the mages against the Templar's brutality. All we have to do is to remain alive until she joins us.

Perhaps, after all, I'm called to fight.

I only pray that the Maker will keep my family and my friends safe. At least, until I can ask Jade's forgiveness.

 **The Gallow's Courtyard, Kirkwall**

Her steps are a bit hesitant, her eyes full of uncertainty. So, I do what I should have done long ago: I meet her halfway. Before she attempts a shy smile, a glimpse of surprise passes through her features.

"So... long time no see, eh, Beth?" Jade begins. Her hand has already reached her head, her fingers around her hair slide. Maker, she's bad at this. But I have to admit I haven't made it any easier, and easy or not I love her more than anyone in the world.

"Can you forgive me, sister?" I immediately ask, catching her hand before she can loose her hair. As I squeeze it, I gesture her to let me talk. To wait just a bit, to let me say what I have to. "I haven't been a good sister for you. I have always asked for your support, but I've given you almost none. Silently, I've criticized you for your weaknesses, all while exploiting your shining personality to make friends. I've blamed you for my imprisonment at the Gallows too. I'm so sorry, I was..."

"... envious. I know, Beth. I've always known." Jade cuts in.

Speechless and wide-eyed, I can only stare at her. I have always thought myself so good in hiding my feelings, that I almost can't believe what I'm hearing.

"And honestly, I would have been too if the roles had been reversed. I mean..." she stretches out her arms "...you were actually caught while I was on the expedition. And in time, I got everything you ever wanted for yourself. On the other hand, you have been secluded inside a prison without any chance to enjoy a normal life. I always knew. I just didn't know what to say, or how to say it, to make you feel better." Embarrassed, Jade bites her upper lip. "I don't think I helped you much in constantly defending you, without even leaving you the chance to speak for yourself. What can I say, you've always been little Beth to me. And that's why I had no idea how to deal with that... side of yours. You know me, I'm not good at emotional talks and..."

I throw my arms around her neck, pulling my big sister in a tight hug. Only now I realize how much I missed her, and I fail to understand how I could have even thought I hated her. "You got better at that. A lot better. And I have an idea about who is responsible for that" I whisper. As my eyes get watery, I feel her body shaking as her tears wet my neck. "I missed you so much, Jade. After Mother's death... I didn't even know how much. I wanted to answer your letters, you have no idea how many times I have dipped the quill into the ink pot without writing a single word."

"Without you around, I had to learn that too. Only a little bit" she softly replies. But what I say next prompts her to untangle our embrace, to look into my eyes. "Why did you remain silent, then?" Jade inquires. She's obviously amazed, and even a bit hurt. "Beth, I've been so alone. Gamlen is not you, and our friends, even Fenris..." she shakes her head "... they're not you either. We were meant to overcome our pain hand in hand."

The least I can do is use my handkerchief to dry her tears, just like she has done many times. "This place poisons every mind, sister" I start explaining her, in a whisper. "It offers no way out, no hope, no warmth. You really end up thinking that's what you're destined for, and in time the Chantry's words seem totally reasonable. Almost every mage truly comes to believe he, or she, is a ticking bomb. The fact that Mother's assassin was a mage... had made me come to the conclusion that you... all of you, would have been safer without me around." I murmur those last words in an almost inaudible whisper, and I lower my head in shame. "I shouldn't have blamed you for her death." I'm ashamed I let my envy get such a hold of me. I'm ashamed I allowed the Chantry to turn me into a drudge. But most of all, I feel bad for having left Jade grieve alone.

"Bethany. Listen to me."

My sister's voice breaks the silence. I still don't dare to look at her, but when she gently raises my chin I see no blame in her eyes. Just sisterly, infinite love.

"Don't ever think I could deem you a monster, a menace or even someone inferior to me. That man was a monster, but I know that his magic was not the reason of his madness. The proof of it is here, right under my eyes." Jade unwaveringly declares.

I know that. I've always known that, but to have someone believing in me and my goodwill is far more different. "What do we do now?" I ask.

Her lips curve into that defiant smile I've come to see so many times. "We fight, together. I'm here to give you and all the mages the chance to choose the kind of life you wish for. And I won't let a pompous Templar stop me."

We're older, scarred and wiser, but I believe in her as much as I did when we were children. This time, though, I'll fight my own battle right on the frontline. By her side.


End file.
